


King Pin

by Trashland (Destieltrashland)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Air Hockey, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Date Night, Established Relationship, Fallen Angel Castiel, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Making Out, bowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4988761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destieltrashland/pseuds/Trashland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean have date night at a bowling alley resulting in a little healthy competition followed by snuggles. And pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King Pin

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd (aka I don't always know how to use commas...)
> 
> Silly fluff :)

Dean plopped down into the hard plastic seat and began untying his shoelaces. Cas stood over him, watching. 

“Come on Cas. Take a seat, change your shoes. Let’s go!” Dean said as he pulled his boots off. 

“Dean. I don’t understand why my own shoes are not appropriate. Why do I have to wear these?” he held out the worn red and blue shoes in his hand. “It seems unsanitary.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah Cas, it is. But it’s also part of the game. When you go bowling, you wear the ugly uncomfortable shoes.” He motioned to his own red and blue clad feet. “Now sit down,” he reached over and tugged at the hem of Cas’ t-shirt, “and change your shoes. I wanna play.” 

Dean had managed to convince him not to wear the suit and instead, to borrow a t-shirt and jeans for the night. They looked good on him, a little too big since they were Deans, but it was nice to see him in something so casual for once. It made him look softer and more approachable. Dean smiled at the thought. 

Cas sighed, a very human gesture he had picked up along the way, and sat. He began unlacing the black dress shoes he was wearing, Jimmy’s shoes. Dean had not been able to convince him into a pair of sneakers. He slipped the shoes off and lined them up neatly under his chair. His socks had little bees on them. Dean smiled at that. He had given those socks to Cas as a joke a while back but the guy loved them and wore them as often as he could. Dean liked knowing that there was a little piece of him with Cas even under that suit. 

He set up their game on the large screen, entering both of their names, before wandering off in search of a ball. Cas trailed behind him, blue eyes darting over their surroundings. The flashing neon lights of the arcade caught his attention and Dean had to drag him away with promises to check it out later. Standing in front of the ball rack, Dean hefted a green striped ball into his arms, testing the weight of it. He gave a few experimental swings of his arm and set it back down. He picked up a solid blue ball, scuffed all over with wear. This one passed his test and he held it at his side while he watched Cas make his selection. 

Cas ran his fingers lightly over every ball in the rack, his intense gaze trained on them like he was looking for a sign. Finally his fingers came to rest on a ball and he lifted it out gingerly. It was sparkly and pink, with a large number seven stamped on the side of it. 

“Cas that’s a kid’s ball. It’s only seven pounds, are you –“ Dean started but Cas walked past him, the light ball tucked up against his chest. Dean shrugged. 

“Ok so you roll the ball down to the end and try to knock all the pins down. Don’t step past that line, don’t throw it too hard, keep it out of the gutters, and that’s the basics. I’ll go first,” Dean said, lifting the ball and taking careful steps toward the foul line. He swung his arm back, twisting his wrist and letting the momentum carry it forward before releasing. The ball sailed down the lane with a satisfying swish and crashed into the pins. All but one pin fell down. 

“Ok, so now I have to try to hit the last pin down. If I do it’s called a spare, if not I just get points for the ones I already knocked over.” 

Cas nodded, his head titled a little to the side as he watched Deans movements. 

Dean lined up again, stepped forward, swung and released. The ball sailed down the lane, curving slightly and ending up in the gutter. 

“Son of a bitch!” he grumbled. “That was so close. Ok it’s your turn.” 

Cas mirrored Dean’s movements, approaching the foul line and swinging back. The pink ball bounced as it hit the lane and rolled sharply to the left landing in the gutter before slowly crawling towards the pins. Dean held back a chuckle. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a heavier ball, Cas? It might help it not bounce.” 

Cas looked back at him with what could only be called a glare. 

“Alright, alright. Try rolling it with more force this time and don’t turn your wrist so much.” 

Cas nodded sharply, his tongue darting out to run across his chapped lips. Dean watched the tiny slip of pink and blushed. 

He took his ball from the machine and approached the line again. This time he took a step to the right before releasing. The ball moved swiftly down the lane and hit the pins on the left side, knocking down several of them. 

“Yeah! Way to go Cas!” Dean shouted. Cas looked back at him, a smile covering his face. Dean felt warmth tingle through his chest at that smile. 

“Thank you, Dean.” He said as he took his seat again. 

Dean sauntered up to the ball return and plucked up his ball. He was still smiling. This time he managed to pick up the spare before taking his seat again. Cas followed suit with two gutter balls. Dean missed the next spare but Cas got his. 

Dean’s following round gave him a strike. He lifted his hand for a high five and then laughed when Cas just stared at him bewildered. 

“Lift your hand, palm towards me, “ he said, taking Cas’ wrist and lifting his hand up, “Now slap your palm against mine.” He demonstrated. Cas’ lips quirked up at the edges. “And that’s called a high five.” Dean said. He grinned at Cas, lacing their fingers together and squeezing softly. 

“Ok, Dean.” He said with fond amusement. 

Cas stood and gathered up his ball. He approached the lane deliberately, walking forward and back, adjusting his stance. He swung his arm, twisting his wrist, testing the feeling. 

“Come on Cas, just bowl.” Dean said, growing impatient. 

“Dean.” 

After another minute of trial and error, Cas approached the line again. He moved with measured steps, his arm came back, his wrist twisted slightly and he released. The ball rolled down the lane and crashed dead on into the center pin. Dean jumped up and whooped. He grabbed Cas into a hug. “You got a strike! That’s great!” he said.  


Cas smiled, returning the embrace. “I think I am starting to like this game Dean. It’s about strategy and physics.” Dean just chuckled. 

“Alright, don’t go ruining my mojo by talking about physics.” He said. He approached the ball return and glanced back over his shoulder with a wink. 

The ball made its way down the lane, riding close to the gutter before knocking down a few pins. Dean grumbled something about jinxing himself before picking up a few more pins with his next roll. 

Cas walked purposely forward, making tiny adjustments again, and rolled another strike. Dean smiled at him, holding his hand up. Cas blinked once but followed his earlier instructions and slapped their palms together. Dean laughed. “There you go,” he said. 

The next three rounds went the same way. Cas kept getting strikes and Dean kept missing the spare. By this time Dean was fuming. How could a guy who had never even bowled before be kicking his ass so badly? 

He took a deep breath, running his hands over the fan on the end of the ball return to dry his palms. He tried to copy Cas’ movements (without being too obvious about it), shifting a little to the right, relaxing his wrist. His ball headed down the lane, dead center, straight as an arrow and crashed into the pins. He whooped enthusiastically.  
Cas grinned. “Good job, Dean.” He said. Dean grinned back at him. 

Cas missed the spare on his next turn. Dean rejoiced a little inwardly. 

“Ok Cas, last frame.” He stood and dried his hands again, copying his previous movements. Like before, the ball rolled down the lane staying true to the center and knocked the pins down with a satisfying clatter. Dean rubbed his hands on his jeans. Two deep breaths before he approached, swung, and released. The ball rolled a blue streak down the lane before twisting slightly at the end. The three remaining pins stood mocking him. 

“Damn it.” He muttered. He lined up again and managed to knock two out of three down. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he said, looking at his final score: 130. It wasn’t the worst score he’d ever gotten (there had been a few drunken games where his score never made it past 90) but it was still low. He watched intently as Cas made his approach. 

The same shuffle of feet and arms as before. Dean was amazed by how precisely Cas was able to replicate those movements each time. 

He got a strike. 

Dean grumbled unhappily. 

On his next roll, the ball hit slightly off center and all but one pin fell down. Dean watched from the edge of his plastic chair. The ball rolled down the lane steadily, and missed the pin entirely. Cas turned around, a look of displeasure on his face. 

Dean motioned him over and pulled him into the chair next to him. 

“You won.” He said, bumping his shoulder against Cas’. Cas’ face perked up a little at that. “190 to 130. That was a good game.” 

Cas smiled softly and nodded. They debated playing another round but Cas was intrigued by the lights and sounds coming from the arcade. Dean took his wrist in hand and they headed that way instead, returning their shoes as they passed by the counter. 

After a few disastrous rounds at the skeeball machine (one involving a child almost being hit with a run-away ball) they made their way to the air hockey table. 

“Now this is a game!” Dean said, sliding his hand appreciatively along the faux wood surface. He popped a few quarters in and grabbed the puck. 

“Ok so you use your paddle to defend your goal,” he said, pointing at the items as he mentioned them, “and you try to get this puck into my goal. First one to seven points wins.” 

Cas nodded. He held the small white paddle stiffly, the felt barely touching the surface of the table. Dean shrugged and dropped the puck into the center of the game. The air current shifted it quickly to his side and he lunged forward, smacking it across the table. It bounced off the right edge, pinging across to bounce off the left before sailing back to his side of the board- straight into his own goal. 

“Damn it!” he barked. Cas just looked confused. 

He dropped the puck again, watching as the air shifted it towards Cas this time. Cas watched the neon green circle creep closer to him. It was almost touching the back of the board when he finally shifted the paddle and tapped it lightly. It slid smoothly down the board, wavering somewhere near the middle. Dean lunged forward again, clacking the puck against the side and sending it straight towards Cas’ goal. Cas blocked it with the barest twist of his wrist, again sending it to flounder in the middle of the board. 

“You gotta hit it harder man. You are supposed to be trying to get it to this side.” Dean said as he reached forward again, lifting up on his toes to make it to the center of the board before driving the puck back down to Cas’ side.  
Cas nodded at his words and moved quickly once the puck came within reach. It sailed down the board, pinging back and forth to each side before clattering into Dean’s goal. 

“Shit!” Dean said. Cas’ lips turned up into a small smile. Dean noticed it, “Great, kid! Don't get cocky.” He said but there was humor behind his words. 

He placed the puck back on the board, hitting it again. It swished down to Cas’ side and was blocked. It bounced back to his side, only to be returned once more. For five minutes it went back and forth, Dean becoming increasingly agitated with every missed shot. Cas’ didn’t seem ruffled in the slightest. Finally it sailed back towards Dean’s goal, he went left to block it and the puck inexplicably curved right. The clatter into his goal practically echoed. 

“Son of a bitch!” he said. He set his paddle down on the edge of the table and took three steps away. Two deep breaths, a brush of palms on his jeans, and he was back. 

He made his next two shots into Cas’ goal. Cas went left when he should have gone right for one and Cas was looking to other way, watching a small child play a zombie shooting game, for the other. 

Cas smiled at him as he refocused on the game. He took the puck and dropped it back onto the table, tapping it into the side of the board again. It bounced off, hitting the opposite edge, before heading back in Dean’s direction. Dean tried to swipe at it but caught it on the back swing and pushed it into his goal instead of out of it. 

He didn’t say anything as he placed it back on the table. He missed his next three shots and Cas got one. Cas smiled up at him again. 

“I like this game too, Dean.” He said. 

Dean felt his bad mood lift a little at that. “I’m glad, Cas. Ok head back in the game, we are almost through!” he said. 

He sent another hard shot in Cas’ direction. Cas blocked it and the puck bounced its way into Dean’s goal. Dean got his next shot, just barely. 

When Cas placed the puck this time, it was with more purpose than before. Like a pool player, he lined up his shot, bending at the waist to eyeball the table before resolutely clacking his paddle against the puck. It sped down the table, hitting one side and then the next before bouncing off Dean’s paddle and falling into the goal. 

The machine beeped to signal the end of the game as the score flashed on the small screen. Dean set his paddle down, grumbling as he went. Cas grinned. 

“I like that game, Dean. You have to plan the trajectory of where you want the puck to go while also anticipating your opponent’s next move.” He held up his hand. 

Dean smiled at the gesture, all his un-sportsmanly feelings melting away. He slapped Cas’ palm before throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah, you’ll have to teach me your secrets sometime. Then I can really clobber Sammy.” He said, chuckling at the thought of his giant of a brother having to stoop to play air hockey. 

“Ready to go?” he said. Cas nodded. 

“I think there is pie left at home.” He said. Dean’s eyes lit up. 

“Hell yeah.” 

\---  
When they got to the bunker, Cas pulled the cold cherry pie out of the fridge and cut two slices (one significantly larger than the other). He warmed them in the microwave before carrying them into the TV room. Dean was stopped in front of the DVD player, but he straightened and headed towards the couch as soon as Cas came in.  
“Thanks babe.” He said, placing a small kiss on Cas’ cheek. He always found it so much easier to be affectionate in private and was glad that Cas never seemed to mind. 

They settled onto the couch, hip to hip, thighs pressed together and ate in silence as the screen came to life. Cas ate in small careful bites, licking his fork clean between each one. Dean watched him, following the movements of his tongue unashamedly. Cas smiled, a small blush coloring his cheeks when he noticed, but he didn’t stop. Dean ate quickly, savoring each large bite for a moment before taking the next one. Once his plate was clean, he set it down and wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulders. Cas smiled up at him as the tines of his fork slid slowly across his bottom lip. He licked his fork again, watching Deans face the whole time. 

He cut another bite and held it out to Dean, who mimicked his movements, letting the fork caress his lips before licking the tines clean. Cas hummed in appreciation. When he finished his piece, he leaned forward and set the plate down. They settled back together, chests, hips, and thighs in a warm line. Dean cupped Cas’ chin, tilting his face up for a slow cherry flavored kiss. Cas moaned into his mouth, something he would never get used to hearing, and chased his lips when he tried to pull away. They kissed deeply, tongues dancing back and forth, soft licks against his palate and teeth. He pulled Cas impossibly closer. After a few minutes they broke away, each panting through their smile. Cas rested his head on Deans chest, one hand laying softly over his heart. Dean encircled him with his arms. 

“Thanks for going out with me.” He said, laying a kiss to Cas’ unruly hair. 

“Anytime, Dean.”


End file.
